


Stressed Spelled Backwards is Desserts

by htfrjolenz



Series: The Adventures and Perils of Davy Jones [7]
Category: The Monkees
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Sexual Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5848477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htfrjolenz/pseuds/htfrjolenz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(The Monkees are as they were in 1966 in this saga but this is an altered reality story, it takes place in modern times and certain facts have been changed to create the plot and environment.)</p><p>Summary: Series follower to 'Arresting Developments'<br/>A recuperating Davy gets bored and antsy … so the boys cook up a little something sweet to calm him down …</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stressed Spelled Backwards is Desserts

   Finally home from the hospital, Davy recuperated languidly on the couch. Flipping through the TV channels for the umpteenth time he turned off the set, tossing the remote on the cushion beside him.  
   "I'm bored outta me _wits_."  
   "Wanna play some more checkers?" Peter offered enthusiastically.  
   "No thanks Petah, I'm all checkered out right now."  
   "Got the new issue of Rolling Stone in the mail today Tiny."  
   "Already read it Mike, _twice_."  
   "Wanna play a game?" Micky suggested.  
   "I wanna go _outside_! I wanna go to the _beach_ , I wanna _ride a horse_ \- I want to _rehearse_. I want to get _orf_ of this _**bloody couch**_!"  
   "Babe it’s only been two weeks."  
   " _Two weeks, five days, seven hours n forty-two minutes_." Davy snarled.  
   "Dr. Bowen said five to six weeks Davy," Mike reminded him again, "if you don't do what he says those _bones_ won't heal."  
   "So wha' am I s'posed to do? Sit 'ere n listen to me _hair_ grow?"  
   "It’s growing in _real_ nice." Micky teased.  
   Davy poignantly flipped him the finger.  
   "Tell you what shotgun, lay down n take you a little nap, n when you wake up I promise we'll all do something _fun_ together."  
   "Don' wanna take a nap," Davy grumbled, punching his pillow into shape.  
   "Here's your _blankie_ ," Micky said in a googly-mommy voice, covering his steely-eyed lover, "and here's your _huggie_."  
   He handed him the plush bear Camryn had brought him in the hospital.  
   "Now be a good boy and take a widdle nappy-bye. Don't suck your thumb it'll give you an _overbite_."  
   He dodged Davy's doubled fist just in the nick of time.  
   " _Fuck orf_ ," Davy scowled, slinging an arm around his teddy bear and shrinking under the blanket.  
   The three remaining Monkees settled at the kitchen table for a quick confab.  
   "So. What's your plan Mike?"  
   "Don't have one yet Mick, but I'll think of _sumthin_ fore he gets up."  
   "Now I'm bored," Peter said, chin in his hands, "do we have any desserts in the house? I'm craving something sweet."  
   "Aww Pete ya know sweets make you hyper," Micky countered.  
   "Not that hyper. Besides man I'm _REALLY_ stressed - and stressed spelled _backward_ s is desserts."  
   "Peter you're a _genius_!" Mike snapped his fingers.  
   " _Huh_? He _**is**_?" Micky puzzled.  
   "What is one of the most natural ways to boost the immune system, promote healing?" Mike asked with a gleam in his eyes.  
   "Chicken noodle soup!" Peter offered.  
   "A little more _natural_ than that shotgun."  
   "I dunno," Micky shrugged.  
   " _Orgasm_!" Mike winked, and rose from the table.  
   "I **LOVE** the way your _foul_ little mind works Iago!" Micky mimicked, rubbing his hands together, "whatta ya got in mind?"

   Davy woke to a dimly lit living room and his roommates lying casually about on the floor.  
   "Welcome back sunshine," Micky giggled.  
   "Hey Tiny, nice of you to join us!"  
   Peter gave a half-lidded silly grin that told Davy something was clearly up.  
   "Wha's going on fellas?"  
   "Lot's going on, lot's coming _off_ ," Micky slurred.  
   Peter snickered.  
   Sitting up and disentangling himself from the covers, Davy peered into the gloom for a better gander at his strangely behaving friends. As his eyes adjusted to the scant light it dawned on him what the cause of all the giddiness was: Perched between his three semi-clothed bandmates was an almost empty fifth of bourbon.  
   "You guys are _drunk_!"  
   "Yep, sure are shotgun."  
   "Just a _bittle_ lit," Micky grinned.  
   "What’s ( _hic_ ) wrong with that?" Peter asked.  
   " _I'm not_ , that's what!" Davy groused.  
   "Ahh the better to _eat_ you with my dear," Mike mumbled.  
   "What was that?"  
   "Nuthin Tiny, jes thenkin out loud."  
   "So what 'appened to 'avin fun _together_ when I woke up?"  
   The tipsy trio exchanged knowing, furtive glances, grinning wickedly up at their unwary prey.  
   " _Wha'_?" Davy eyed them cautiously, his head cocked at a curious angle.  
   "You look a little stressed out there shotgun. We've figured out a fun way to alleviate the situation," Mike winked, standing up.  
   "Why do I have this sudden urge to _run_?" Davy asked, shrinking into the sofa.  
   "Gee Davy its just _us_ ," Peter smiled, getting to his knees.  
   "Now wai' a _minit_ fellas-"  
   "Davy, Davy!" Micky schmaltzed, crawling seductively toward his panicky lover, "What could you _POSSIBLY_ have to fear from us?"  
   Without understanding exactly how it had occured, Davy found himself penned in, surrounded by a triangle of drunken mischievous giants with **EVIL INTENTIONS** screaming from their blood-shot eyes. He was both excited and terrified in the same token.  
   "Take it easy there, I've got broken _ribs_ ya know," he pleaded, craning his neck to eyeball the sneaky Texan behind him.  
   "Then you're probably well off to keep in mind _not_ to struggle with us on this'n Tiny."  
In a fluid motion, they had him on his feet, moving to the center of the room. Peter undid the buttons on his shirt while Micky made fast work of the tie on his pajama pants.  
   Mike meanwhile, was busy placing tiny little nips along the graceful line of his neck, sending delicious little shivers down his spine.  
   Peter arranged the throw pillows on the carpet, and they gently guided him to the cushy heap. He lay on his back clad only in his briefs, contemplating the potential of making a break for the door. He decided he was _far_ too outnumbered.  
   "Will yas at _least_ tell me wha's going on?" He pleaded.  
   "Davy - babe - _relax_ ," Micky winked, "Its gonna be .. _**sweet**_."  
   Mike smothered a snorting laugh.  
   "Do I at _least_ get some of that booze?" He pouted.  
   "Sorry shotgun cain't mix it with your pain meds."  
   "But I 'aven't even _'ad_ one since six o'clock this morning!"  
   Mike looked at Micky who looked at the clock.  
   "It's fine nirty thive - er nine thirty-five."  
   "Okay," Mike sighed, " _one_ glass - **ONE**."  
   Davy grinned: _Battle won_!  
   With shaky hands, he took the bitter, amber liquid and sitting up on one elbow downed it in one swallow.  
   " _Dadgum_ Davy!"  
   "Hey! If I'm stuck being the pahrty favor I'm gonna at least _join_ the pahrty."  
   Divesting him of his BVDs, Micky leaned in and whispered to him in a sultry tone,  
   "Babe, this is _YOUR_ party!"  
   Davy felt an exciting warmth that ran from his forehead to his heels. He couldn't decide if it was the liquor or anticipation; either way he was good to go. The three men gathered around him on the floor, touching and caressing every inch of exposed skin. Micky trailed licks and suckling kisses along his inner thighs, stroking his hips with tickling fingertips. Peter rubbed a calloused hand across his toned stomach, flicking his nipples, one then the other with his crafty tongue. Mike tangled his long fingers in Davy's silky chocolate strands, pressing fiery kisses to his passion-thirsty lips. Davy moaned thickly into Mike's eager mouth, the symphony of sensations driving him wild. Mike dipped his tongue between the youngsters parted lips to tango briefly in a silky lover's dance.  
   "Don't you _move_ ," Mike breathed in his ear, "I've got a _sweet surprise_ for you."  
   Drunk with pleasure Davy closed his eyes, drifting along lazily on wings gilded with gossamer desire.  
   "Do you _trust_ me little one?" Came Micky’s silky questioning voice.  
   "You _know_ I do."  
   "Then just relax and go with the flow, okay?"  
   "Sure babe."  
   He sensed busy hands about his face and the unmistakable feel of a blindfold being strapped securely around his eyes. A nervous grin played on his lips, but no struggle or objections came from him.  
   "You ready for that fun I promised you Tiny?"  
   "Yes," he whispered, an excited tremble in his voice.  
   " _Nothing_ dangerous, nothing _disgusting_ ; trust us Shotgun n this’ll be _great_.”  
   Davy nodded and sighed out a relaxing breath. A moment passed by. He could hear them whispering amongst themselves and other sounds he couldn't place. Then the blessed contact began again.  
   He felt something cool and sticky brush across his lips, and smelled the scent of toffee or caramel. Mike's tongue hungrily licked at the sweet sauce, sucking in his plump lower lip and grazing it with his teeth. As he moved to taste the other lip, Peter continued to pet him, kissing his now-erect nipples. With the first swipe of Mike's skilled tongue against his mouth, Peter sucked the pink peak into his mouth to mingle with the ice he held within. He swirled the frozen cube to touch the rosy flesh he now held in his teeth, and deftly pinched its twin with gruff fingers.  
   Davy groaned deeply, his body humming from the contrasting flourishes of attention. A third sensation entered the tantalizing physical cacophony, as Micky enveloped his shaft in a soft, leathery fruity film. Mike probed into his mouth, a chocolate candy kiss melting between their tongues, while Micky worked at softening the fruit-rollup around his hardened cock. Peter switched sides, taking a frozen square of bliss to Davy's other breast. He squeezed a spray of Reddi Whip along the line of hair that rain up his stomach and proceeded to lap it up in small flicking licks.  
   " _Bloody FUCK Micky_!" Davy cried.  
   "Feel good Tiny?" Mike breathed in his ear as Micky began to suck wildly at his candy-wrapped hard-on.  
   " _So_ good!" he panted.  
   Mike placed a strawberry between his lips and bending down he pressed it into Davy's waiting mouth, kissing him and sucking at the sweet red juices. They devoured one another's mouths, savoring the taste of skin and chocolate and fruit. Having sucked down to bare skin, Micky paused long enough to empty a paper packet into his mouth. The incredible sensation of the pop rocks exploding against his head sent Davy into fits as his lover resumed the relentless blowjob.  
   Peter continued to kiss and suck at the warm bare skin of his torso, occasionally tweaking Davy's stiffened nipples. Face covered in whipped cream he was having the time of his life. Mike went at the luscious little mouth again, the stinging bite of cinnamon dancing on his tongue, the tiny red hot candies dissolving easily in the heat of their impassioned kiss.  
   Davy's resolve was wearing thin, his body stoked to a fever pitch. Mike joined Peter in tasting the small taut form from neck to hip as Micky sucked his organs out at breakneck speed. Brown hair stuck to his sweaty brow as he tossed his head from side to side in the throes of his mounting euphoria. Clutching the cushions beneath him, Davy begged for merciful release. On hands and knees Micky sucked him fiercely, taking his cock from stem to tip as Peter and Mike each mouthed a tiny nipple greedily.  
   "Oh God, _please_ \- I'm.. **_I'M CUMMING!_** "  
   Davy pounded his fist on the carpet, a strangled cry escaping him as Micky swallowed his velvety fluids taking him over the edge.  
   " _Enough! STOP_ , **PLEASE**!" He begged.  
        And suddenly it was over.  
   His body buzzed with energy as the aftershocks hit him, shaking him to his very core. Too weak to move he lay breathless and sticky, a film of sweat glistening on his skin in the low light. Someone wiped him down with a warm, wet cloth, cleaning him thoroughly of every vestige of the evening’s experimentation. Quickly toweled dry he was covered again with a soft blanket and drifted into sleep.  
   When he awoke he was back on the couch, fully pajama'd and smelling food.  
   "Hope you're hungry," Micky called from the doorway.  
   "Are yer kidding I'm _famished_! What's on the menu?"  
   "Bacon and eggs, Mike's making breakfast."  
   "Breakfast? Did I sleep _all night_?"  
   "Sure did sleepy head, ya act like _something_ knocked you out last night."  
   " _Ha-ha_ , funny," he smirked  
   "You want jam on your toast Davy?" Peter called from the kitchen.  
   "Erm .. _no thanks_ man," he grinned bashfully, "I think I had my fill of _sweets_ lahst night."  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go out to:  
> Willy Wonka  
> JL Kraft  
> The Pillsbury Dough Boy


End file.
